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  A Friendly Arrangement

  A Novel by Sarah Bates

  Text Copyright © 2011 by Sarah Bates.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Published by Sarah Bates and The Bookshelf Press.

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored

  and/or transmitted in any form or by any other means,

  except for brief quotations in printed review without

  the prior permission on the author/publisher.

  *Any and all Characters and situations are the sole

  creation of the writer and are not based on any

  factual persons or situations.

  Any resemblances therein are strictly coincidence.

  For my mother, Kathryn Bates, who challenged

  me to a writing contest one afternoon.

  It took a few days, but this is what I came up with.

  I hope you enjoy.

  Chapter One

  “And finally, to my grandson, Alexander,”

  Alex looked up from his blackberry and met the attorney’s dark gaze when he paused in the reading of his grandfather’s last will and testament.

  Franklin scrutinized the younger man for a moment, then turned his attention back to the document in his hands. He cleared his throat before continuing. “‘My dear Alex, I know that it is a conversation that you have considered longwinded and long suffering at best, but my hope is that now that I am no longer with you, my words will at last make an impact on that stubborn heart of yours’.”

  Franklin paused again to check on Alex’s reaction, and grimaced when he saw the dawning understanding in his bright blue eyes. “‘I know how you have viewed love and marriage, and especially children.’,” he continued to read, “‘We have regrettably argued on more than one occasion over our differing views on such matters. For those times, I apologize to you most profusely. But, I am an old man, set in old ways and old traditions, and so it is with the heaviest of hearts that I must express to you this one last time my great worries for you. A man cannot live alone forever, Alex.’”

  Alex scowled, not really liking where this was going.

  “‘And so’,” the lawyer continued, “‘I hope that you know that I do this only out of my greatest concerns for you. Effective immediately as of the end of this reading you have seven, yes, seven, days to marry’,”

  “What?!” Alex pushed to his feet and stared in utter astonishment at the lawyer. “He’s not serious?”

  Franklin simply arched a brow and stared back at him in annoyance at having been interrupted.

  “I don’t have time to get married. I have a company to run!” he said, staring at the document in the lawyer’s hands. “This is ridiculous,”

  Franklin cleared his throat and lowered the papers. “I think that perhaps you may want to hear the rest of it before you say anything else,” he said calmly, though he already knew the emotional storm was brewing just by studying the other man’s eyes. They were turning a dark storm gray.

  The greasy ball of anxiety that had begun to form in his stomach churned tighter and Alex slowly sank back down into his chair. “How much worse does it get?” he asked.

  The lawyer reached up and loosened his tie. Not something he’d have done with any other client, but this was his good friend, and he was already feeling the guilt rise for not having been able to tell him. “Just don’t shoot the messenger, alright,” he muttered. He grimaced again when Alex’s eyes widened. Taking a deep breath he lifted the stack of papers. “‘If by the end of those seven days you have abided by my final wishes and have taken a wife, with whom you know I would approve, then Steel Spas and Resorts, as well as my estate and all contents therein will go to you, as sole beneficiary.’”

  Alex frowned and sat back, not understanding. “I’m his only living relative, Franklin. Who else would he leave Winterhaven and the resorts to?”

  Not wanting to look at his friend, Franklin lifted the document higher to block his view. “‘However, if at the end of those seven days you have still stubbornly refused to take a wife, then all properties listed above and their individual assets are to be broken down and sold, the proceeds of which will be donated to various charitable works that I have detailed to Franklin, and you, my dear boy, will receive nothing. I hope that someday you will come to understand my reasoning. I love you, Alex. If nothing else, remember that.’”

  Silence filled the conference room and the lawyer slowly lowered the papers to study his friend. He sighed at the look of total betrayal on his face and shifted through the papers, then held out a copy to him. “He thought that you might want a copy for your records,” he said gently.

  A muscle twitched in Alex’s jaw and he pushed to his feet and took it. “Well how damned considerate of him to think of that,” he snapped, glaring down at the pages as he flipped through them himself. “How is this possibly legally binding?” he demanded, shoving the papers into his computer case.

  The lawyer slowly sat down and reached up to rub a hand over his dark bald head. “The parent company that owns the spas and resorts, as well as Winterhaven, all belonged to him, Alex. Outright. The man didn’t owe a dime to anyone. He could pretty much do whatever he wanted with them.”

  “Including forcing me into marriage? This is my life we’re talking about.”

  “I know. And I did try to talk him out of this, Alex. I tried my damndest. But you know what he was like. Once he got an idea in his head, there was no reasoning with him. He wants you to have what he had.”

  “How am I possibly supposed to find a woman and marry her in seven days that could ever come close to giving me what my grandmother gave him? I can’t. This is just so, so,” he began to pace and shoved a hand into his short, wavy dark hair. “It’s typical of him. That’s what it is. It’s also impossible.” He turned and scowled at his friend. “Surely any sane judge would agree with me on that.”

  Franklin hesitated, then reached out to restack his papers. “Actually, as they were his assets he has, or had, every right to put whatever condition he deemed reasonable on the recipient of them. Trust me, you don’t have time to take this to court, and I think that even if you did, you would have a fifty/fifty chance that the judge might just like the idea of so many charities receiving such large donations. There’s nothing I can do for you about this. I’m sorry.”

  “Seven days.” Alex shook his head and his stomach churned bitterly. “How am I possibly supposed to find a woman to marry in seven days?”

  Franklin stood with all of his files now securely tucked under his arm. “My suggestion would be to start close to home. Clearly your grandfather had someone in mind, otherwise he would have given you more time.” He reached out his hand and was relieved when Alex shook it. “Let me know when you come up with some names. I’ve got a buddy down at the department who owes me a favor. We can have him run some background checks.” He sighed when Alex’s face paled and his blue eyes widened. “Sorry, not a good time to joke.”

  “No. No, it’s not. Background checks. As if I don’t have enough to think about, now I’m going to be wondering if the prospective wife has a criminal history I don’t know about. Thanks.”

  Franklin shrugged and shifted closer to the door. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

  “Didn’t work.” Alex frowned as he slung the strap to his computer case over his shoulder. “How long do you think I’ll have to stay married anyway?” he asked as he followed him out the door.

  “I’ll have to look into it, but a rough guess would probably be a year. It gives enough time for all the legal issues to settle. But I’ll check, just in case. I’ll give you a call later, alright?”

  Alex
slowly nodded and watched him walk back towards his office, and felt his world slowly begin to spin out of control. And knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it. Except one thing. And that one thing was something he had vowed his whole life he would never do.

  * * *

  It was a beautiful day. The sky was blue, the sun was bright and the scent of stargazer lilies drifted on the light breeze. It was, without a doubt, one of the best days of Samantha Jamieson’s life.

  She couldn’t help the bounce in her step or the grin that curved her full pink lips as she thought of finally telling her best friend in the whole world the secret that she had been greedily hording all to herself for so many weeks now. She smiled brightly at the office workers as she stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the fifteenth floor.

  That some would say that she positively glowed would only add to the giddy fluttering in her belly.

  Feeling on top of the world, she cheerfully counted the floors as the cart ascended, then glided out as soon as the gleaming twin doors slid open. “Hello, Theresa,” she said to the older woman who sat at the receptionist’s desk. “Is he in?”

  The older woman glanced nervously to the double doors that led into the CEO’s office, and swallowed nervously. “He is,” she replied, looking back to the younger woman. “But I feel that I should warn you, Mr. Steel isn’t exactly in the best of moods right now, Ms. Jamieson. He’s down right surly, actually.”

  Samantha grinned and shrugged a delicate shoulder. “He’s always surly. That’s just Alex. No need to announce me,” she called over her shoulder as she headed for the doors. “He’s expecting me for lunch.”

  Without bothering to knock, she opened one of the doors and went in, grinning all the more when he scowled at her and listened to what the person on the other line was saying.

  “A year? Are you positive, Franklin?” He took a deep, angry breath and his scowl grew more fierce as he listened. “Yes. Alright, alright. No, you don’t need to call your buddy.” He rolled his eyes. “Man, you have the worst sense of humor. And timing. No, I don’t need it.” He lifted his gaze and watched as Samantha settled herself prettily into one of his visitor’s chairs. “Yeah, I’m sure. Look, I’ll call you later. Sami’s here. Yeah. Bye.” He hung up and scrubbed his hands over his face.

  She patiently waited, primly folding her hands in her lap, and his eyes narrowed when he dropped his own hands onto his desk and he saw her smile widen radiantly. “Do they prescribe what you’re on?” he asked, sitting back as he raked a hand through his hair. “Because if they do, I could use some about now.”

  “Long day?” she asked, barely containing her glee.

  “You have no idea.”

  “If you want to wait and do lunch some other time,”

  “No. Actually, I have something I need to talk to you about,” he said, and though she wouldn’t have thought it possible, his scowl deepened even more. “Okay, but first,” she bit her lower lip, too excited to wait for lunch to tell him her news. “Can I tell you my news first?” she asked. “Please. I just can’t wait any more.”

  He sighed but gestured for her to go on.

  Her smile widened and she sat forward in her chair. “I’m pregnant.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, what?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m pregnant,” she said again.

  “By who?” he demanded, sitting forward in his chair. He wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about the fact that some unknown man had dared to touch his Samantha.

  “It’s ‘whom’, actually,” she corrected, then she dug into her purse and pulled out a sheet of paper and held it out to him.

  He stood and snatched it from her, his brow furrowing deeply as he read it. “This looks like a product spread sheet,” he said, looking back up to her. “Number C14, drk-brn hr, bl-I, six-two, one-eight-nine, one-forty-nine, iq. What the hell does all of that mean? And who’s the father?” he demanded again, feeling slightly disgruntled at the fact that some unknown man had gotten his best friend pregnant.

  She sighed and studied him patiently. “C14 is,” she replied.“C14 is what?” he grumbled, trying to decipher what she was saying. Sometimes he had all he could do to keep up with her change in conversation topics.

  She rolled her eyes. “C14 is the father.”

  His gaze slowly lifted to meet hers over the edge of the paper. “Come again?”“C14. Dark brown hair, blue eyes, six feet two inches, one hundred eighty-nine pounds, IQ of one hundred forty-nine.”

  For a moment all he could do was stare at her, then what she had said finally sank in and his eyes widened and he dropped the paper. “No.” She nodded and he grimaced. “Oh, Sami, that’s so,” he searched for the words, and shuddered in disgust. “A sperm bank? You actually did this on purpose?”

  She sighed and bent to pick up her donor profile. “You could just say congratulations like a normal person would,” she muttered, folding the paper and slipping it back into her purse.

  “Congratulations? But why would you,”

  “You know I’ve always wanted to have a child,” she interrupted. “I just got sick of waiting for the right guy to come along. Look, I know you don’t particularly care for children, but you could be happy for me. This is something I’ve wanted for a long time.”

  He frowned and stared at her flat belly. Shuddered to think that it was now occupied by another, growing human being. “I know. I’m sorry. You’re happy, so congratulations.” His frown deepened. “It just seems so, I don’t know, unnatural.”

  She rolled her eyes again and folded her arms at her chest. “Which part? The sperm bank or the whole pregnancy thing in general?”

  “Honestly, both.” He lifted his gaze and shifted uncomfortably when she arched a sharp golden brow. “I know, it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” she agreed, sitting back down. “So, what was your news?”

  He scowled more fiercely and turned to lift a stack of papers from his desk. “My grandfather’s will was read this morning.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened and she reached out to take his hand. “Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry. That was terribly insensitive of me to go on about myself. Are you okay?”

  “Well, not exactly. According to this,” he held up the papers, “If I’m not married within seven days, I lose everything.”

  She frowned as she took the papers and he pushed way from the desk to pace along the wall length window that opened up to his view of Orlando. “What do you mean by ‘everything’?” she asked. “And I’m sorry, but did you say married?”

  “I mean everything.” He growled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he paced faster. “As in the company, the stocks and bonds, Winterhaven. Everything. Even my grandmother’s engagement ring. All taken away to be sold off to the highest bidder, to which the proceeds will then be divided among whatever charitable organizations my grandfather deemed worthy of a contribution. Franklin tells me there are many.”

  She slowly shook her head, still not quite comprehending. “But married? And did you say seven days?”

  “Ahha, seven days, effective after the reading. So I have to be married by ten a.m. next Wednesday, or,” he trailed off and scrubbed his hands over his face.

  She sighed and stood, crossed over to him and wrapped her arms around him. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t really have much choice but to comply,” he replied, resting his chin on the top of her head.

  “Are you going to have Angela sign a pre-nup?” she asked.

  He frowned and pulled back far enough to see her face. “What does she have to do with any of this?” he asked back.

  She blinked in surprise. “Ah, isn’t she the woman you’re currently involved with?”

  “Socially. For the most part we don’t even like each other. And in any case there’s no way in hell she’d ever sign a pre-nup if she knew that I had no choice but to marry her, or risk lo
osing everything. And she would want my grandmother’s diamond. They’ll be slurping on snow cones you know where before that happened.” He shook his head and pulled away from her to start pacing again. “I need someone I can trust. Someone who won’t double-cross me.”

  She studied him anxiously, the giddy flutters in her belly now rolling, greasy waves. Somehow, she knew where this was going. “Alex,”

  He turned to look at her, and realized she had begun to put two-and-two together. “Sami, I know how you feel about marriage. Trust me, I feel the same way, and if there was any other way, or I had more time,”

  “I’m pregnant,” she said very slowly and carefully. “You don’t like children. Even when you were one, you didn’t like them. And pregnant women freak you out. How do you suppose that would work?”

  “I don’t know.” He sighed and dropped back down into his chair behind his desk. “All I know is that if I’m not married by next Wednesday I lose everything.”

  She groaned and slid her hands up into her long golden curls. “For how long?”

  He shrugged and began to stack papers into orderly piles. “A timeframe wasn’t specified, but Franklin said that a year would be best. That way everything can be settled and a satisfactory time would have passed to ‘work on the marriage’,” he quoted.

  She grimaced at the last part and lowered her hands to her hips as she started to pace. He watched her, having always enjoyed the way she moved. Tall and slender, she always seemed to move with the grace of a dancer.

  She’d wanted to be a ballerina once, when they were children. She’d been the youngest in her class, he knew, and had been the first to work her way into her toe-point slippers. But then high school had come and her mother, who had already been working on husband number four, had told her she needed to get her head out of the clouds and live in the real world, and had refused to pay a penny more for her lessons - her father had been off gallivanting around the casinos of Europe at the time, drinking his way into a liver transplant and marrying girls only a few years older than her.